Airplanes
by Spanish Sunrise
Summary: Jack and Chloe. Tradgedy strikes, and death follows. Jack pleads, prays, begs, and wishes, just to realize that only he has the power to save her. Pretty dramatic. Eh. Review please.


**Yeah, not proud of this at all. I just had the song stuck in my head and the idea was stalking me, just wouldn't leave me alone. Also, I don't know much about medical...stuff, but work with me. Hope it's not too unbearable to read. :) Review please.**

_Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars_  
_I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now_  
_Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars_  
_I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now_

Smoke. Pain.

Fire.

Blood.

That had been Jack's life for the past fifteen years, and would probably stay this way forever. He knew he should have listened to his mother, that this was a damned job and no good would ever come of it. Jack told her that _somebody_ had to do it, why not him? Yet he hated his job. He lost a wife, almost a daughter, Audrey, and now Renee.

A death so pointless.

All he had left in life was the small, precious frame that was cradled in his arms, dirt smeared across her cheek and a bullet in her chest. If they were going to shoot, why was it at her? He was right there. He could have jumped in front of her. He could have done _something! _Tears were streaming down Jack's face, and he blinked them rapidly away for they were blurring his vision.

His legs were ready to give from underneath him. His breath was shallow, and rapid. His shoulder was practically ripped to shreds, two bullets fired into the soft flesh. His shirt was torn and frazzled. He looked like a desperate man that risked his life for a living. Which was precisely what he was. He forced himself to place foot in front of foot. They were almost there.

Jack burst through the doors of the hospital, cool air soothing the fiery pain in his body. He looked down at the perfect person cradled in his arms. Chloe. He never realized how much she really meant to him. She was always just a friend, just a coworker. But she was the only one that truly stayed by his side until the end.

And he was staying by hers.

Jack shouted an order at the wide-eyed nurses that froze to watch him. His cry sounded alien, hoarse and fake. But it was enough to get them to react. Jack realized that Chloe's life was slipping away, her heart will soon stop beating, the same heart that took his pain and never stopped loving him. Jack felt like a pathetic low-life.

She was taken from his arms, laid out on a stretcher, her body weak and her mind unconscious. They rolled her away, barricading him from following her. All he could do was wait. He paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. She had saved his life, and he let her. She threw herself between the bullet and the target.

A romantic, dramatic, Shakespearean tragedy.

Only a miracle could save her now. Jack closed his eyes and prayed. He prayed _hard_. He wished and wished and wished. Just one wish, let her be alive. He would have gladly given up his own life in exchange for hers. Please. Please. Please. He begged God, threatened Him, bargained with Him, and promised Him. But it was as if his prayer was in vain. Jack deserved that, all his life he did nothing but kill people. He was getting what he deserved.

But he never stopped praying.

"Sir." Jack opened one eye, he hadn't realized that he was on the floor, passed out. His shoulder was bandaged and he was wearing a hospital shirt. He must have passed out while he was pacing. He looked up at the face that shook him awake. It was a young doctor. Her white coat was covered in blood. _Chloe's blood?_ A surgical mask was covering half of her face, but the half that was opened to him, the eyes, looked broken and sad.

He realized what that must have meant.

He sprang up from his position on the floor.

Good God no! Please no!

Jack said that out loud, not even noticing. The woman stared at him for a long moment, her eyes full of pity and deep sympathy. But Jack didn't want her pity. Or sympathy. He wanted Chloe, and he wanted her alive. If she died, he could not ever forgive himself. He could not loose the fourth woman he ever loved. He would die. Just die.

"She has only several hours, blood is filling her lungs and her heart rate is slowing." The doctor's eyes glittered with unshed tears for a stranger she did not know. "Her heart is stopping. She will not make it without a donor. But finding one takes time."

Jack swallowed hard.

He knew what he must do.

_Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars_  
_I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now_  
_Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars_  
_I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now_

"Recovery Room! Recovery Room!" Someone was shouting over and over and over. They shined a flashlight obnoxtiously in her eyes, and she swatted away with her hands, only to find that they were pinned down by monstrous IV needles. The haze was clearing, but Chloe still felt worse for wear. Why was she here? How in God's name did she make it alive.

She remembered throwing herself in front of Jack. The bullet would have killed him, and if he died, she would have died along with him. When she was able to see again, she looked around a painfully white hospital room. Or 'Recovery Room', if that's what they want to call it. Two nurses, one young doctor.

The doctor looked her over with calculating eyes; it made Chloe feel uncomfortable, and she looked away. Her hand crawled up to her chest, and she was shocked to feel stitching and bandages. She gasped and turned to the doctor. Chloe's eyes expressed her question, and the 'how' that she was meant to say was evident across her face.

"Donor." The doctor replied, in answer to her silent question.

Chloe was confused. "Where did you find one so quickly?"

The woman blinked. "We had someone willing to donate."

The doctor sucked in her breath quickly, and her eyes were glazed with tears of sorrow. They confessed more than Chloe ever wished to know. "Where is Jack!" She screamed in her face. "Where is he!"

The doctor turned around slowly, but her feet moved so quickly that she was out of the room in less than five seconds. Chloe broke down. She begged, prayed, and wished for it not to be true. But she could not change that. She had tried to save his life, but it was all in vain. She lost it anyway. He had died physically, and took her along with him, emotionally. She put her hand over her heart, Jack's heart.

She always wanted it to belong to her, and now-in a perverse way-it did.

_Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars_  
_I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now_  
_Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars_  
_I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now_

**_Kinda creapy, but a review would be nice. ;D_**

**_Happy Valentine's Day, ciao!_**


End file.
